


from afar I've loved you (but never let it show)

by BigBadWolfe



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, So Mama Cackle gets involved and tries to give them a gentle nudge towards each other, and then some serious repressed desire when they kiss, emotional angst, mutual pining but they're both blind to it, present exchanges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13232244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBadWolfe/pseuds/BigBadWolfe
Summary: Hecate was caught up in the warmth of her, buoyant with second hand joy and breathless when faced with the vision that Ada made; never ceasing to be amazed at how much Ada’s happiness intertwined with her own, how the fierceness of her love made her doe eyed and doting in Ada’s presence, turned soft beneath the endless blue of her eyes.It was just a shame, really, that Ada hadn’t noticed; and that Hecate was too afraid of losing her dearest friend to tell her that with every beat of her heart she longed for her – loved her with everything she knew and all the abstracts in between. Her lips, traitorous and cowardly, wouldn’t form the truth that her heart had settled upon years previously, that Ada was the always to her forever....(Or the one where Mama Cackle has had enough of Hecate and Ada's being oblivious to their mutual pining).





	from afar I've loved you (but never let it show)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cassiopeiasara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopeiasara/gifts).



> This is a very late prompt fill from the lovely cassiopeiasara, who asked me to write something that was inspired by Kelly Clarkson's 'Wrapped In Red'. So this happened, and boy was it a journey. It's probably not the best thing I've ever written but here goes.

Only when Mildred was but a speck in the distance did Hecate let out a sigh of relief, scanning the white expanse of the sky one last time before snapping her fingers and transferring to her rooms.

Somehow they had made it through to the Yule holidays without much incident and, aside from some minor hiccups (Mildred appearing with bright pink hair and an even brighter grin being the worst of it), all had been blessedly quiet. Even the ever persistent feud between Ethel and Mildred had quieted down to simple glares and poked tongues in the corridors, their animosity diminished by the festive spirit that had spread throughout the school like a living thing. Hecate supposed she should really be used to it by now, Ada’s penchant for festivity an unchanging yearly ritual. For as long as Hecate had known her, Ada took the holiday period very seriously - or as seriously as she took anything what with the perpetual smile that lit her face. Even when she had first started, Ada’s hair as dark as her own and falling in wild waves, half of it pinned behind her head to halo her face, Hecate remembered the festive decorations that had crept in slow increments into the castle before soon encompassing it; akin to the way the tide overwhelms the shore in a bright, beautiful burst. It was as if Ada were on a mission to turn everything that she laid her hands on into a shinier, brighter version of its self: corridors laden with holly garlands and long ropes of tinsel, classroom doors crowned with wreaths and ceilings hung with floating lines of fairy lights. Hecate had long since stopped resisting the Yule Tree that Ada insisted must be in every classroom, and had even come to admire the one that resided in the Great Hall despite being quite sure that every year it grew marginally bigger.

Though Hecate had never been one to favour the Yule period, had never liked the gaudy nature of decorations or the insistent socialising, she made an exception when it came to Ada. She always did. She was helpless to do anything but accommodate her, desperate to see her smile, to see just part of the burden of being Headmistress melt away from her shoulders to be replaced with near childish excitement for the festive season. It was impossible to say no to anything Ada asked of her ( _apart from the jumpers - Hecate steadfastly refused to wear anything that lit up or frolicked with reckless abandon_ ) when faced with the glee with which Ada did everything:  the way she smiled as she waved her hands in a sweeping motion, the conductor of an invisible orchestra, to watch corridors bloom bright and heavy with glittering colour, how she reached on her tiptoes rather than use a levitation spell to decorate the Yule tree. Hecate had surrendered long ago to the inescapable fact that each Yule season she would fall ever harder for Ada. It was pointless to fight against it, especially when Ada shone so brightly with yuletide spirit that she was practically aglow, her smile stretching wide to meet the crinkled lines of her eyes - rays of the sun reaching out, always reaching out. Hecate was caught up in the warmth of her, buoyant with second hand joy and breathless when faced with the vision that Ada made; never ceasing to be amazed at how much Ada’s happiness intertwined with her own, how the fierceness of her love made her doe eyed and doting in Ada’s presence, turned soft beneath the endless blue of her eyes.

It was just a shame, really, that Ada hadn’t noticed; and that Hecate was too afraid of losing her dearest friend to tell her that with every beat of her heart she longed for her – loved her with everything she knew and all the abstracts in between. Her lips, traitorous and cowardly, wouldn’t form the truth that her heart had settled upon years previously, that Ada was the _always_ to her _forever._  

…

The following morning, when she finally awoke from a dream she would have preferred to stay curled up in, Hecate was struck by the harshness of her reality for the upcoming week. Unlike the girls who had been almost giddy at the prospect of returning home to their families for Yule, Hecate felt sick with anxiety at the idea of it. It was a feeling that had been building for days, and with each hour that passed it solidified, cloying – grasping at her throat with steadily tightening hands. She’d ignored it with practiced ease, opting to throw herself whole heartedly into the frantic pace of the last few days of term, forever hopeful that she could outrun the inevitable. But now, with the girls gone and most of the staff too, she had no choice but to face the facts: that tomorrow lunchtime she would be flying back home. It always made her laugh, a bitter sound bitten out behind the grinding of teeth, to still call it home when her family house had never been anything of the sort. Even as a child she’d acknowledged she had not a home but a roof above her head; its length and breadth akin to the confines of a jail cell.

It would be different if returning back to her father’s house was something that promised some semblance of warmth or familial affection, that he actually wanted her there for the pleasure of her company and to catch up on the year that had gone by where they’d not spoken a word to each other. But instead he _insisted_ she be there, no matter if she was willing or not, to fill the space that her mother had left, to judge her for the things she hadn’t achieved and mock her for ones she had. Hecate knew only too well that he demanded her presence just so that he could feel better about himself, to know that he had some control over something – _someone_. She asked herself constantly why she kept going back, year in year out, as though she were some sort of glutton for punishment. She supposed it was something to do with her father’s insistence that she owed him, that she was duty bound to the ties of her blood and that any decent witch would abide to her family’s traditions without hesitation. Of course Hecate was loathe to be the one to break tradition, no matter how much it hurt – or at least that’s what she told herself. But there was a small voice in the back of her head that said different, that screamed out that she was _afraid_ , that she was too _scared_ of the repercussions that failing to go back would bring.

Hecate swallowed and sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed and braced her arms against the edge. Already she was tense with her shoulders tight and high, readying herself to be belittled and dismantled piece by piece until she was left with the bare bones of herself – ones she barely recognised as her own by the end of it. Spending Yule with her father was like constructing a puzzle of herself that always ended with a piece or two missing; a perpetual disappointment, a frustrating mistake.

She looked down as she felt Morgana bump her head against her shin, twining between her legs. She rolled her eyes good naturedly despite the thrumming of her pulse and leaned down to scratch her fingers behind Morgana’s ear. She purred happily for a moment before bopping her paw against Hecate’s foot, once, twice, three times.

“Yes, yes. Breakfast time for you, I know”.

But rather than meow her agreement, Morgana tipped her head to the side in what could only be called frustration. With a suddenness that startled Hecate from her motionless state, Morgana leapt up from the floor and onto the bed, padded across her mattress before jumping effortlessly up onto Hecate’s dresser. Weaving between the numerous bottles and meticulously stacked books with ease, Morgana eventually came to a stop in front of a small wooden chest on which balanced a neatly wrapped box. She pawed carefully at the ribbon tied around it, playing only momentarily with its trailing thread before looking pointedly back at Hecate.

“What?” Hecate huffed as she pushed herself to her feet, carefully extracting the box from its perch.

Morgana purred expectantly as she blinked up at her.

“You’re awfully nosy, you know that don’t you?”

She was answered with a happy chirrup to which Hecate rolled her eyes at, before she turned her attention back to the present in her hands. She bit her lip as she looked at it pensively, thumb drumming against its top before flipping over the tag tied to it.

**_For Dearest Ada._ **

Hecate let out the breathiest of laughs, still marvelled at how the present had come to be, born from a strange set of circumstances that largely revolved around Ada’s mother. She could still hear their conversation from earlier in the week, one that was sure she’d never be likely to forget; could in fact see the twinkle in Alma’s eye, so like her daughters, as they’d talked in what felt like riddles, skirting around a subject that Hecate feared Alma knew far too much about.

_“Mrs Cackle,” Hecate greeted, voice slightly higher in her surprise as she pressed a hand to her forehead and lowered her head, “Well met”._

_“Well met, Hecate dear,” she returned the gesture, “and it’s Alma. We’ve had this conversation many times, have we not?”_

_“Of course. My apologies,” Hecate tried not to lower her gaze in embarrassment. “What can I do for you? Is Ada not answering her mirror?” Her voice warbled just slightly and Alma raised an eyebrow that had Hecate immediately biting down her lip, cursing her traitorous voice that lacked the subtlety of her body._

_“Relax, dear. I called you deliberately in answer to the letter you sent me”._

_“Ah,” Hecate pressed her fingers together and rested her chin atop of them. “So, do you think it an amenable present? Or is it too,” she cycled through multiple options_ , too much, too strange, too foolish _“obtuse?”_

_“I think it’s a wonderful idea. Our Ada has always been one for family heritage and she’ll be truly touched to know you remembered our Celtic beginnings”. Hecate forced herself not to say that she remembered everything Ada had told her of herself, catalogued it away studiously. “Is there any particularly symbol you have your eye on?”_

_Hecate swallowed, averted her eyes as she listened to the unchecked glee in Alma’s voice, was almost certain that she had been found out._

_“I’d not thought about it,” she said quickly, thumb smoothing across her knuckles._

_Alma chortled at that and Hecate looked up, affronted._

_“Well that’s certainly a lie if I’ve ever heard one,” Alma gave her a pointed look that was reminiscent of the way that Ada looked at her when she knew she wasn’t being entirely forthcoming. “You forget, Miss Hardbroom, I know you better than you think. You’ll have thought about it for weeks. So tell me”._

_“The Triskele perhaps,” Hecate said, suddenly quite sure that the Cackle family had a magical tendency for getting others to open up, “a sign of female empowerment and growth. Or -“_

_“Or?” Alma hedged._

_“Oh it doesn’t matter,” she waved her hand even as she conjured up the image of what she had truly wished to buy for Ada: the Celtic Love Knot. The age old symbol perfectly depicted her feelings, an unending love, an infinite future – a promise and a confession in one. “Just as long as you think that it’s an acceptable gift”._

_“You could give my daughter just the gift of your smile and she’d be overjoyed”. Hecate felt herself flush and turned her hand to press her fingers to her cheeks. “Trust me, she’ll adore it”._

_“I wish –“_

_At that Alma stopped her quite abruptly, fixed her with a look that was both serious and soft, a look that only a mother could give._

_“Witches don’t wish for things, they make them happen. Isn’t that what you always say?” Hecate felt her heart stutter in her chest. “Perhaps you should take your own advice, Hecate”._

_She floundered for a moment, trying to find the words that didn’t cement what she was sure Alma already knew. “That’s largely easier said than done”._

_“But the best of things are never easy to attain, are they?” Hecate wondered if Alma would come out and say it, would ask her if she was in love with her daughter, if she was aware that every part of her seemed to scream it out loud. “They come in moments of wild courage, when our hearts are louder than our heads”._

_“I see where Ada found her wisdom,” Hecate murmured, no longer sure what to say, thrown completely off kilter by the way Alma had guided their conversation._

_“My daughter is far wiser than me, that I can assure you. Though perhaps her observational skills are not what they used to be”._

_“I don’t understand –“_

_“It’s nothing,” Alma shook her head, “an old woman’s fun, shall we say”. She cleared her throat and Hecate felt as though she’d missed something – as though somewhere there were others laughing at a joke she’d yet to understand. “Well, I do believe I’ve wittered on long enough. I shall leave you to it”._

_“Thank you for your help”. Her words seemed to tumble on without her, her mind stuck in the cycle of uncertainty that their conversation had brokered within her._

_“And thank you, Hecate, for forever trying to make my daughter happy”._

Twisting the present in her hands, she heard the heavy slide of the metal inside and hoped she hadn’t just tangled the chain into knots. Somehow the heaviness that had settled inside of her at the thought of seeing her father was abated, just slightly, by the pride she felt at having purchased the gift that she’d truly wanted to give. She had heeded Alma’s words, as tangled in subterfuge as they were, and listened to her heart; had brought the Love Knot before she could talk herself out of it.

“Now, comes the hard part,” she murmured as she placed the box back down, urging Morgana to jump down as she did so, “risking it all”.

Morgana circled her legs once more, chattering as she did.

“I know. Madness, isn’t it?. Love is just,” she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose for a moment to stop the oncoming headache, “madness”.

…

Across the castle Ada paced the length of her office agitatedly, knowing all too well that it was the penultimate day of the dreaded countdown. Every year she was the same, despite her enjoyment of the festivities and the girls’ infectious excitement, she was filed with a bone deep dread that came with Hecate’s inevitable departure.

Each time that she watched Hecate leave for her family home she feared for what she’d come back like. She’d seen time and again how Hecate returned to the school like a bird with a broken wing; defensive yet entirely helpless, spirit broken, crushed under careless fingers. Each year Ada wanted nothing more than to help her find her feet, reassemble the broken parts until they formed something familiar. But Hecate never let her, not entirely. Whilst more open with her than she was with anyone else, Hecate was on occasion sharp with her, pushing Ada away before she could see the way she had been whittled down to the bone edge of her being. But Ada always saw. She saw everything, so finely attuned to Hecate that it had become second nature. She saw through every smoke screen façade that Hecate built up, found her bleeding heart behind each one and desperately wished with every part of her being that she could tell Hecate that she didn’t need to hide. Not from her. She wanted and loved and revered every facet, every angle, every sharp word and all of the fragility that lay hidden beneath. Ada wanted everything that Hecate had to offer, everything that she so desperately hid away, yet she couldn’t find the words to say as much.

She felt foolish for her wayward heart, knew that Hecate would never love her in return, their friendship a line in the sand that highlighted their boundaries. It was a line she was too afraid to cross, scared to lose out on her dearest friend – on the only person who saw her for who she was, not just the title and power she wielded. Hecate allowed her to be soft and scared and tired, shouldered the work load when it was too much, checked in with her when the day’s had been long and events hard hitting. She had cracked her open long ago and somehow hadn’t run scared when she saw the storm within. She soothed the loneliness that had eaten away at her all her life, cared not for expectations and formalities but rather for the genuine emotion that Ada felt obligated to hide. Hecate had found the woman beneath a lifetimes worth of struggles and let her flourish.

None of Ada’s thoughts helped her agitation, heightened it in fact as she dwelled on how all she truly wanted was to love and protect Hecate from any and all harm.

“Ada, dearest one, what are you doing?”

Startled, Ada turned on her heel to face the mirror on her desk. There in the normally pristine glass sat the image of her mother.

“Mother,” Ada greeted her, quickly covering the space between herself and her desk. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes I’m fine. I was just checking that you still wanted me to come over tomorrow”. Her mother’s voice was jovial as always, that had never changed, but something mischievous sparkled in her eyes. Ada frowned, contemplating her mother almost suspiciously, wary of what she was up to; after all, Agatha hadn’t gotten her devious streak by accident.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She lowered herself into her chair, waving a hand to summon a teapot along with cup and saucer.

“I just thought that you might want to be left alone,” Alma smiled in faux innocence as Ada filled her cup, “or had other plans? Perhaps with a certain lovely Deputy Head of yours?”

Ada sighed, rolling her eyes as it all fell into place. Her mother had never hidden (at least not very well) her adoration for Hecate, nor her hopes for the two of them to be together. Her already exuberant enthusiasm for their getting together had only grown in intensity when Ada had shyly confessed her long held love for Hecate some months ago. Despite her resigned stance Ada felt her cheeks flush hot. “Not this again. I’ve told you, she won’t want to hear it. Hecate can do far better than loving me, I assure you”.

“Oh hush now,” Alma waved her hand as if to banish the thought, “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Ada. I may be old but I’m not stupid – I know a woman in love when I see one”.

Hope burned hot in Ada’s chest, hot enough to hurt. Hope always did, for it found a way to make one frightened in the preparations for the inevitable fall of disappointment.

“Mother please,” Ada looked at her imploringly, eyes wet, “ _don’t_ ”.

“Why won’t you allow yourself a chance at happiness, dearest? It’s not like you. You’re forever telling your girls to create their own good fortune, why not heed your own advice?”

“This is different”. She studied the small flecks of the tea leaves that floated on the surface, biting her lip against the tears she could feel welling up.

“Will you really just wait in hope that Hecate will turn around and profess her love to you?”  Alma gave her an almost apologetic smile, as though she knew how much the reality of her own words hurt. “You know that, as dear as she is, Miss Hardbroom will bite her tongue forever rather than expose herself”.

Ada swallowed thickly, setting her tea cup aside and plucking her glasses from her face. She pressed her fingertips to the corner of her eyes, felt the faintest touch of moisture linger against theirs pads.

“I’d wait for her all my life”.

Ada drew her hand down to her desk, fingers immediately moving in patterns against the grain. Quickly they began to resemble Hecate’s name, traced over and over, fingertips gentle – longing.

“Oh my dearest,” Alma sighed, placing her hand against the glass as though she could stroke her daughters cheek, could rid her of the sadness that had worked its way into the downturned curve of her mouth. She wanted nothing more than to tell Ada of what Hecate had said to her just the week before, how she was more certain than she ever had been that Hecate was just as in love with Ada as she was with her. But she couldn’t. Though she didn’t mind meddling in small ways, suggestions here and there that could be seen as almost throw away lines, she couldn’t reveal the secrets of either of their hearts. She knew they had to work it out for themselves, had to draw courage and take the plunge.

“Its fine,” Ada murmured, “really”. She cleared her throat, perched her glasses on her nose once more and tried to ignore the truth that now hung heavily in the air. “Besides, Hecate leaves for her father’s tomorrow, you know that”.

“Oh goddess,” Alma groaned, “does she really still go to see that heartless son of a -“

“Mother,” Ada cocked an eyebrow with a smirk. “I’m surprised at you”.

“Well it’s true,” Alma folded her arms over her chest. “That man has never deserved a daughter like Hecate, and yet he still somehow manages to keep her under his spell. But I do hope you tell her that I’m sure she only goes to visit him to avoid seeing me”.

“Now you know that’s not true. She doesn’t have much choice in visiting him – he’s,” Ada curled her fingers into a shaking fist as a whole litany of curses worked their way up her throat, only to be swallowed back down, “ _persuasive”._

“We all have choices to make dearest,” Alma fixed her daughter with a look that spoke volumes, “we just have to make the right ones”.

“Indeed”. Immediately Ada’s thoughts flashed to Hecate, wondered just how it would feel to choose to tell her how much she loved her – thought that perhaps she’d feel the rightness of it deep in her bones.

“I suppose I should leave you in peace with your thoughts, Ada. I’m sure you have much to think about before tomorrow”. Though no question was asked, Alma’s voice pitched upwards, an answer being evidently needed.

“I do,” Ada stayed silent for a pensive moment as she tried to picture being brave, tried to see how she could work up the courage to do something rather than to just sit around and brood. “Thank you, mother. And fly safely tomorrow, yes? There’s a decidedly nasty storm moving in from the west tonight. I don’t want you to catch tailwind of it come tomorrow morning”.

Alma smiled appreciatively as she raised a hand, stopped for just a moment with fingers splayed. “I hope you know that you have a brave heart my dear, you always have. Just – just listen to it. It’ll tell you what to do”.

Ada smiled but gave no answer and her mother flicked her fingers, severing the call. Leaning back in her chair, Ada stared up at the ceiling before closing her eyes, listened to the silence ringing in her ears. Her mind spun almost as fast as the racing of her heart as she thought of what her mother had said; that she had to choose to listen to her heart, to be brave – to take control of a life left stifled and let it breathe once again.

Tapping her fingers to her chin, Ada pushed down the voices that whispered every negative thought she’d ever had, steadfastly ignored how they told her that she was setting herself up for failure. That she would fall hard enough to shatter everything she knew. But she supposed she had already fallen far and hard and entirely – thought that now she deserved to give herself the chance to fly.

…

Midday had barely been and gone when there was a knock on the door. Hecate quirked an eyebrow, knowing that it could only be Ada; Dimity was visiting her sister and Algernon and Miss Bat had decided to go to Lapland for the holidays. Hecate could only hope they weren’t looking for elves. 

Hecate snapped her fingers and the door yawned open. In its place stood Ada, looking as festive as ever despite the fact the girls had gone. She wore a new jumper each year, every last one of them enchanted differently: a Yule tree with lights that flickered through a bright rainbow of colour, reindeers that flew across a brightly lit sky, a snowman dancing to a silent tune. This year she’d opted for a cat playing with a tangled mess of tinsel, and had crowned herself, as always, with her customary reindeer antlers. Hecate almost wanted to chastise herself for finding it so endearing rather than an affront to her eyes.

“Hecate,” Ada said with a smile that lit up almost as brightly as her jumper did.  

“Ada,” Hecate smirked as she took a deliberately long look at her jumper before raising a teasing eyebrow.

Ada just crinkled her nose playfully in answer to Hecate’s tease, before taking a couple of steps forwards with her hands clasped tactfully behind her back to hide their tremble.

“Did you know, my mother is convinced you’re avoiding her?”

It was a safe a start as any, eased her into it without setting off the urge to bite her tongue and run.

“Why on earth would I do that?” Hecate let the dress she had been holding fall down onto the bed, frowned as she looked up. “Your mother is one of the only people outside of this school that doesn’t make me want to rip my hair out. And besides, I spoke to her not a week ago”.

“You did?” Ada asked in surprise, thrown for a moment. She’d spoken to her mother not an hour ago and she hadn’t mentioned it once. “Really?”

“Yes but – never mind. Why is she convinced I’m avoiding her?”

“Well you do insist on leaving the same day she arrives, every year. However, I fear I’m more convinced you’re avoiding me”.

“Why?” Hecate’s voice softened, “I wouldn’t, Ada. I may avoid many people, but never you”. She hurt just to think that Ada had even entertained the idea that she would want to avoid her, that she wouldn’t grasp every opportunity to stay with her if she could.

“Then why do you insist on flying back home every year, despite my constant invitation to stay here?” Ada held up a finger when Hecate went to protest, knew she had to get everything out before she was overcome with sensibility. “And we both know you don’t like going back”. A dark look flitted across her eyes and her fingers dug a little harder into her palms. “Your father isn’t the most hospitable of wizards”.

“He insists on it, you know that,” Hecate quickly occupied herself with refolding the dress she had dropped and tucking it into the travel bag she was currently putting together. “Ever since my mother passed, Yule has become a particularly trying time for him”.

“Which he takes out on you,” her voice wobbled at just the thought. “You can’t keep putting yourself through this every year, Hecate”. Ada wanted to reach out to her when she saw Hecate’s head drop forwards, looking for all the world like a chastised school girl. Ada softened her voice. “I hate to see you so wound up. So – afraid”.

“I’m not afraid to return home”. Hecate snapped even as the voice in the back of her mind shouted its agreement, wanted to beg Ada not to let her go, to hold her close and stop her from being so scared of becoming the disappointment she feared she already was.   

“There’s no weakness in admitting you’re scared, Hecate. There are many ghosts at your family house, some of them your own – some of them you’d rather not face”.

Hecate swallowed thickly, hands flying up to the chain her maglet was on. She twisted it around her finger, tighter and tighter until her finger throbbed from the restricted blood flow. She watched as Ada closed the last of the distance between them before lifting her hand and for a moment Hecate thought she was reaching for her cheek. Instead she pressed her glasses back up her nose.

“Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to keep the past in the past. Sometimes you have to leave it all behind for the sake of your own happiness”.

This time when she reached out, Ada did clasp hold of her, fingers curling around her shoulder. Hecate felt dizzy with the warmth of her.

“So why not start now? Stay here, with me. My mother will be overjoyed to see you and I -“

“And you?” Hecate prompted, feeling the burn of Ada’s fingers through the fabric of her dress.

“I would love the pleasure of your company”.

Ada barely breathed out the words, instead focused upon how close they were, how she could feel the warmth of Hecate’s skin against her fingertips. She stayed lost in that moment, just looking at Hecate with her face raised up towards her, eyes bright and beautiful, teeth biting into the fullness of her bottom lip. Her fingers twitched against Hecate’s shoulder, wanting to move, to stroke up the long, bared expanse of her neck and tangle in her hair. She wanted her, _oh_ how she wanted all of her.  

“Yes,” Hecate whispered and Ada had to shake herself from the dazed state she’d slipped into. She searched Hecate’s eyes for a moment, suddenly certain that Hecate had somehow just read her thoughts. “I’ll stay here, I’ll stay –“

Ada almost toppled over at the swell of euphoria that raced through her.

“You will?”

Hecate nodded, eagerly. “Yes. Please”.

Ada had to physically restrain herself from taking Hecate’s face in her hands, instead stroked her thumb across her shoulder. The smile she wore shone brighter, pulling at her cheek muscles until she ached with her happiness. Reluctantly Ada removed her hand from Hecate’s shoulder and instead went to push the reindeer antlers back into place on her head, having slipped down a little in her excitement.

“Brilliant! That’s brilliant,” she beamed and watched a mirroring smile break out on Hecate’s face, one of those that always had her stammering for words. “Before I go – I –“, Ada dithered for a moment before pressing on, heeding only to the braver parts of herself. “My mother arrives tomorrow, so I thought perhaps we could celebrate tonight. Just the two of us?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Dinner,” Ada hoped that didn’t sound too much like a preposition even if it was one. “A drink, perhaps – if you’re amenable?”

“I suppose a glass or two wouldn’t hurt,” Hecate smirked, proud when actual words came out of her mouth rather than a garbled, beatific squeal.

“My office, say – 8’Oclock?” Ada said as coolly as she could, even though her heart was hammering hard enough to hurt.  

“I’d be delighted”.  

“So,” Ada smiled and forced herself not to just stand and watch the slight flush of Hecate’s cheeks travel across her face, “I’ll see you then”.

Walking backwards towards the door, forgetting for a moment in her dazed state that she could transfer, Ada almost slammed straight into the wall. Blushing, she felt behind her for the door knob, eyes never leaving Hecate’s face, before letting herself out. As soon as the door closed Ada all but collapsed against the wall, heart fit to bust and cheeks burning hot, scared and delighted all at once as she realised that tonight was the night. Hope fluttered in her chest like a bird in cage, eager to fly as she formulated a plan. She wanted it to be perfect, wanted to prove to Hecate beyond just her word alone that her love for her was irrefutable, unchangeable. That she wanted her, all of her, more than she could ever explain.

…

Unbeknownst to Ada, not five feet away behind the closed door, Hecate did much the same – flopping back onto her bed to stare up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling feather light as though the whole world had been lifted from her shoulders. She was overcome with the feeling that she could do anything, that she was brave enough to challenge the uncertainty of her mind in favour of listening to her heart. She could do this – she could tell her. Tonight, she would lay herself bare, consequences be damned.

…

Hecate looked herself over in the mirror, smoothed the invisible creases from the deep red material of her dress before trying to school her features into something that didn’t resemble wide eyed panic. Whilst she was ready to admit everything that she had kept hidden, she couldn’t help the nervousness that thrummed through her. She’d already spent an hour running through every scenario she could imagine in her head, had pictured every rejection and all the joyous acceptances; all of which made her feel vaguely nauseous. It didn’t help that her conversation with her father had gone less than well, that he had seethed and raged, spat out insult after insult in the hopes to guilt her into changing her mind. But she had held fast and steady, had finished the call before he could tell her just how much her mother would’ve been disappointed in her. Though his words still rang in her mind she refused to let him ruin her evening, to stop her from reaching out for the happiness that she truly wanted. She would let him suffocate her no longer.

Looking at the clock and noting the time, almost eight, she gave herself one last glance in the mirror. She fiddled needlessly with a curl of her hair that had fallen from her loose bun, cocked her head to the side as she tried to convince herself to keep the stray strands framing her face rather than tuck them back into her bun. Finally pleased with her appearance, Hecate took tight hold of the present that she hoped would be well received before transferring outside of Ada’s office. 

Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed eight.

Taking a deep breath, Hecate knocked twice on the door and waited, though not before reminding herself to keep breathing - fainting was not on her list of things to do tonight. Unusually, rather than the door being answered by Ada, it swung open of its own accord and Hecate, a little puzzled but still nonplussed, stepped inside. As soon as she did so, the door swinging closed unnoticed behind her, Hecate stopped in frozen amazement, taking in the almost impossible scene before her and wondered if she had indeed fainted out in the corridor and was now dreaming. She closed her eyes and opened them again just in case but the scene before her stayed the same; the inside of Ada’s office had been transfigured into a picturesque woodland.

Gaping, unable to help herself, Hecate took a long, slow look around the room. She pointedly focused on discerning the magic that it must have taken to create such a feat just so that she could keep herself calm, her mind already racing ahead, tripping over itself in disbelief.

It appeared as though Ada had enchanted the wooden furniture of the room into trees, their branches twining together to form an alcove of sorts that blocked out the storm that raged beyond the windows. It cocooned the room in a welcoming safety, gave the illusion that nothing could interrupt them, that it was just the two of them suspended in time. From their bare branches hung candles, flickering in stark contrast against the dark grain of the wood, casting soft pools of light over the piles of snow until everything glittered.

Hecate turned slightly on the heel of her boot, looked up to the ceiling that had been turned into a mirror of the night sky outside, and as she looked at it closer she could pick out her favourite constellations with ease. Something tightened in her stomach, and to her horror she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, vision blurred.

She swallowed thickly, blamed the fuzziness of her vision on the falling snow, and instead followed the lines of fairy lights that had been strung up in-between the trees, leading her eye to the centre piece of the room. There in the middle of it all, this perfect scene that pulled at the already tender strings of her heart, was a picnic blanket, nestled against the snow.

Stood just to its left was Ada.

Ada who wore her festive jumper and a soft, hopeful smile that far outshone the brightness of the room. Her eyes however, were uncertain if not a little guarded as though she was just waiting for Hecate’s reaction to measure her own emotions against.

Hands trembling, the gift still clutched in her fingers in real danger of falling now, Hecate looked across to her.

“Ada, what?” Her voice was as whisper soft as the falling snow, stolen away by the scene before her, by the woman who was looking at her with such hope that it made her ache.

“I – well.” Ada stumbled with her words uncharacteristically, hands wringing anxiously in front of her. “You’ve always said you love the forest in the snow – and I’d hoped it would snow today but it didn’t and it’s just awfully wet outside, which rather put a spanner in the works because I wanted it to be perfect when I told you”.

Ada pressed her lips together to try and stop the words that seemed so willing to fall from her lips, as if they were too afraid that Hecate would leave before they could be said.

“Told me what?” Hecate asked softly.

Ada blanched, opened her mouth and then closed it again. She had never known such nervousness in her life, had never feared losing someone quite so much as she did Hecate but she chose to carry on. She chose to seek her own happiness.

“Oh, yes. Quite right, I haven’t actually said anything yet,” she laughed nervously before crossing the snowy floor, stepping up to Hecate and smiling. Almost sighed when the gesture was returned, when Hecate didn’t look at her like she was some kind of fool but instead like she was about to reveal the very secrets of the universe. She took that as a good sign. “I’ve been meaning to do this for far longer than I’d like to think, my dearest Hecate. You see, I was rather fed up of silencing my heart for the anxiety in my mind”.

Ada looked up into Hecate’s eyes that were quizzical but warm, such a familiarly breath taking sight that Ada felt sure she could look into them forever.

“Your eyes are really quite beautiful, did you know that?” She said with a distracted sort of sigh, happiness curling at the corner of her mouth.

Hecate gave her a perplexed look even as her heart threatened to beat straight out of her chest. The present in her hands was all but forgotten as she realised exactly what was happening, realised that she wasn’t reading into things too much, wasn’t being outlandish and wistful.  That the look in Ada’s eyes and the soft wanting lilt of her voice was real and true -

Ada reached up to cup Hecate’s cheek, stroking her thumb in a slow motion over her skin as their eyes remained locked and everything fell away. Every thought just dropped away until the only thing she could focus on was the warm softness of Ada’s touch, the way her body trembled in response. Unable to help herself, tired of denying herself the pleasure of her body and the desire of her heart, Hecate leant into the touch and smiled.

Pressing up on tiptoes so that they were the same height, Ada swayed into Hecate’s personal space, eyes dropping to her lips.

“I’d like to,” Ada’s thumb smoothed over Hecate’s bottom lip, listened to Hecate’s heavy exhale and felt it against the pad of her thumb, “I mean would you –“

Surprising both herself and Ada, Hecate pressed up against her, the gift finally falling to the floor forgotten as she framed Ada’s face in her hands.

Ada waited breathlessly, and only a moment later Hecate closed the scant distance between their lips.  She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her as Hecate kissed her with a softness that made her ache, her hands slipping down to the curve of Hecate’s waist, each movement hesitant and slow as though afraid the pristine moment would break, would shatter like the cruellest of dreams.

But then Hecate tilted her head, a hand sliding back to cradle Ada’s head and suddenly they surged together, softness falling away to desperation – to desire that had gone untapped for so long.

Hecate shifted her fingers that lay at the base of Ada’s neck, pushed them upward to thread into the soft strands of her hair so she could tug her closer. Ada didn’t hesitate to follow her command, moved forward distractedly as her fingers slid up along the softness of Hecate’s dress, trailing over her shoulders until she cupped Hecate’s jaw. Ada’s thumb stroked across her cheek before she echoed Hecate’s movement, tangled her fingers in Hecate’s hair and deepened the kiss.

She felt as if she’d been set alight, her skin burning beneath Hecate’s touch and its overwhelming intensity; feeling as though she had suddenly been set free after so many years of being chained down by her own fear.

Breathlessly Ada pulled away, just for a moment, and smiled at the bereft sound that Hecate made at the distance, her eyes opening slowly as if in a daze until they were looking at one another once more; both of their eyes shining with tears, overwhelmed with a happiness that had only existed in the kindest of dreams.

“I had rather hoped,” Ada murmured, smiling as she stroked her fingers against Hecate’s cheek, “to tell you that I’ve fallen in love with you”.

Hecate let out a breathy laugh as she leaned into Ada’s touch before moving closer, head tilting until there was just the whisper of a space between their lips once more.

“I’d rather hoped to tell you the same,” her lips ghosted over Ada’s, “but it would appear that you’ve stolen my thunder”.   

“Well it’s only fair don’t you think, when you’ve stolen my heart?”

Hecate rolled her eyes but laughed, so obscenely happy that she couldn’t help but press her forehead against Ada’s before wrapping her arms around her. It felt so strange to finally be able to touch Ada like this, to hold her so close, after imagining it every day for as long as she could remember.

Belonging wrapped as warmly around her as Ada’s arms did, and she was suddenly embarrassingly close to sobbing as she realised that she was wanted, that she was loved in a way that didn’t ask for anything in return. She had spent her whole life with people wanting her only to consume her, to use her up and then throw away the husk. To other people she had always been a rung on the ladder so to speak, something to be trodden on - something to lift others higher whilst she was left on the ground. It had always been that way, even at school: friends using her for her name and for her intellect, teachers at college who saw someone with untapped power that they could manipulate. All she had ever desired from her life was to be wanted unselfishly, but instead she was used and used again until she didn’t know who she was beyond the façade she’d put up.

Hecate rested her cheek atop of Ada’s hair and breathed out slowly, pushing away the past for it no longer mattered. Shifting slightly, Hecate’s foot caught on the gift she had dropped and she smirked.

“Would you like the gift I’d intended to give you tonight?” She asked as she pulled away, hands lingering at Ada’s shoulders before dropping down, "or is there a rule on the amount of heartfelt confessions that can be given in one night?"

Ada chuckled and shook her head, "one should never say no to a gift". 

Hecate crouched down to retrieve it, stood hesitantly for a moment with it in her hands before shyly passing it across.

“It seems pathetic when compared to your gesture, but I’d rather hoped –“ Hecate wrung her hands awkwardly, “I’d rather hoped that it would say everything I never could”.

Ada gently slid her thumb nail over the taped down edge before peeling back the paper, scrunching it in her hand and banishing it to the kitchen bins. Slowly she eased off the lid of the box, and gasped. She ran her fingertips slowly over the intricate knot that lay nested in its velvet case.

“Hecate,” she whispered, still not looking up, instead drawing the necklace out of the box and letting it hang between her fingers.

“I know you said that your Celtic heritage fascinated you –“

“It’s a love knot,” Ada interrupted, finally meeting Hecate’s worried gaze. Tears streaked down her face, her bottom lip trembling. “A _love knot_ ”.

“Is that not – acceptable?” Hecate hedged, suddenly terrified that she had ruined the most perfect moment that had ever existed all because of her own overbearing nature. “I’m sorry, it’s too much – I shouldn’t have been so…” Hecate reached out to take it back, wanted to rip it apart with her bare hands but Ada suddenly held it close to her chest in a protective gesture.

“Do you know what it means? What it truly means?” Ada asked her, voice edging on desperate.

“It’s the intertwining of two souls, a union if you’d like. But most importantly,” Hecate reached out for Ada then, aware that her tears were in fact her uncertainty on whether or not Hecate understood the importance of the symbol clutched in her hands, “it’s a promise. A promise to love you. Always”.

Gently she took the necklace from Ada’s hands, moved behind her and laced it around her throat. As she clasped the latch, she kissed the top of her head and softly drew her hands down from Ada’s neck to wrap around her middle instead. Ada twisted in the circle of her arms, head tilted back to look up at her properly.

Hecate wiped away her tears but left her hands framing Ada’s face, knowing she need not say anything else, that their joined gaze spoke so much louder than words ever could. Hecate moved her hand so that it cupped the back of Ada’s head and encouraged her to nestle into her, drew her as close as she could when Ada buried her face in her neck. She could feel warm dampness soak into her collar, but she just pressed another kiss to the crown of Ada’s head and kept her close.

“Thank you,” Ada eventually managed to say, voice muffled against Hecate’s skin and thick with tears. “ _Thank you_ ”.

All the words she didn’t say were as clear as day to Hecate and she smiled sadly, would be forever wounded that Ada thought herself unworthy of love and the promise that came with it, that she felt it necessary to thank her for her returned feelings. She slowly stroked her fingers through Ada’s hair and knew, with the entirety of her being, that she would protect Ada and her beautiful heart for as long as she was allowed to, would make her see how incredibly precious she was – that she deserved to be loved wholeheartedly, with nothing held back.

“I’ve got you,” Hecate whispered into her hair and felt Ada clutch harder at the material of her dress, “and I promise I won’t let go”.

…

The next morning, having settled her bags in her room, Alma Cackle made her way to her daughter’s office, anxious to see what mood Ada was in. She could only hope that something miraculous had transpired otherwise she’d be facing the wrath of Ada’s sour mood for the length of her stay.

Silently she pushed open the door, and nearly squealed in surprise, managed to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound when she found her daughter and Hecate Hardbroom curled around each other on an overly large armchair, a picnic blanket tucked around their shoulders.

Backing out of the room as quietly as she could, Alma winced as she pulled the door closed, only letting out a breath when she was at the end of the corridor. Giggling, both happy and ever so slightly smug, she made her way back to her room, deciding to give them a couple more hours to themselves. Then, and only then, would she gleefully descend upon them with the triumphant crow of _“it’s about time”._


End file.
